


Push

by Morgause1



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Master/Servant, No plot whatsoever, PWP, Smut, Sort Of, The Seduction of Mairon, Vala/maia, angbang, based on art, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgause1/pseuds/Morgause1
Summary: Melkor pays one last visit to Aulë's star smith and gives him a little nudge out of the door.
Relationships: Angbang - Relationship, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 14
Kudos: 105





	Push

**Author's Note:**

> This piece of filth was inspired by [this amazing gem](https://suzannartafterdark.tumblr.com/post/141528222965/sometimes-mairon-works-too-much-and-melkor-feels) by the great and mighty [Suzanne](https://suzannart.tumblr.com/) (sorry! Huge fan! Sorry!).

“Lord Melkor, with all due respect – “

The Maia was alarmed and distressed but was trying to mask it as anger. Melkor laughed in his heart. The mask was brittle. Mairon’s fire flared right through it: small tastes of the rich splendor of his spirit. And just as the Maia was bleeding out of the ever-widening cracks in his mask, so was Melkor worming his way in through them. After months of slowly mounting pressure, Mairon smelled just about ready for his next move.

“What?” he asked. “With all due respect, what?” he rounded the workbench now. Mairon backed away, barely knowing that he did. Melkor noted the small flicker of surprise on his face when his back suddenly hit one of the heavy stone columns that lined the halls of Aulë’s workshop. He had nowhere to go without making his situation even more awkward. Just as Melkor expected, the Maia lifted his chin in a last ditch attempt at defiance.

“With all due respect, this is Lord Aulë’s household and I serve him, not you.”

Melkor laughed, his booming voice filling the vast, empty chambers. Mairon visibly flinched at the loudness of the sound, but no one else was there to hear it: everybody went out to celebrate whatever idiotic event excited them this time, everybody except this little gem. Melkor made sure of that when he came in. He had enough of these nosy bastards interfering with his plans.

“Liar.”

“What?!”

“You’re lying when you say you serve Aulë. You lie to your peers, you lie to Aulë, and you lie to Father by whom you swear. But most of all, you lie to yourself.” Closing the gap between them, Melkor placed one hand on the column just above Mairon’s head, covering him with his shadow and his looming presence. He was pleased when Mairon gulped. When was the last time the Maia, a servile creature by nature, was actually made to feel _small_? He needed a much stronger hand than that fool Aulë could ever provide.

Weakened for but a moment, the Maia recovered. “I am not lying!”

“You are. You claim Belonging yet feel nothing when you obey his paltry orders. Where is the joy you are supposed to feel when fulfilling your Purpose? Where is the soul-deep satisfaction that is your Maiarin birthright? Why do you keep degrading yourself at his feet when you could have so much more?”

“That’s enough. I don’t have to stand here and listen to all of this. You are not my master, I don’t have to do anything you say – ” Mairon squirmed and tried to get away. But Melkor would have none of that.

“ _Be still!_ ”

The growled command echoed all around them, passing through the Maia as if he were thin air. Mairon froze, unable to move a muscle. A small gasp fled past his lips, barely audible to anyone who did not stand as close as Melkor did. His eyes lit up, a dark golden gleam full of years of unsatisfied hunger. No. Aulë would never do.

“There it is, see? That feeling. This is what you’re supposed to feel when serving your master, and this is what you deprive yourself of. But not for long. I am here now, and I’ll make sure you do not suffer needlessly.”

It seemed like the stunned Maia tried to speak, but his heavy tongue wouldn’t comply. Melkor sneered as he reached for him. He tossed Mairon’s heavy leather apron away and started unclasping his long, dark red tunic.

“What…?”

“Hush,” the Maia was hot to the touch, his freckled, flushed skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat. Good. “Watch and learn.” He moved down past his waist and to his thighs, and untied the laces that held the Maia’s breeches on. Then he reached inside and took the Maia’s cock in his hand.

Mairon hardened instantly with another delicious, helpless gasp. His eyes locked onto Melkor’s. He was shaking.

Melkor took a moment to appreciate him. He ran his fingers under and over his balls as if weighing them, then along his shaft. Big, heavy. Very pretty, just like the rest of him. He closed his hand around the base of the cock and stroked all the way up to the tip.

 _Oh_.

It took all of Melkor’s barely existing self-restraint not to laugh out loud. The stubborn, insolent Maia almost imploded under his fingers, and he hardly even touched him yet. He caressed him again, establishing an unhurried, teasing pace.

Mairon’s supposedly impenetrable mask shattered entirely. He seemed to melt. His taut muscles worked hard, clenching and shuddering as he fought to draw breath. Red strands of hair escaped his braid and stuck to his damp face and neck. The tip of his cock was wet, too, and the wetness slicked Melkor’s hand. _Very_ _good_.

Melkor wondered suddenly what it might feel like to fuck him and the thought stirred something deep inside him. Perhaps he’ll try it one day, when he’s finally his...

Focus.

Quicker. Harder. He needed him to snap –

Without warning, Mairon threw his hand over the Vala’s shoulder and buried his face in his chest, moaning wildly. Intimacy, huh? Melkor could feel pleasure building up in the Maia’s body, seeping through his skin to pool in the Vala’s hand and then returning to him with a vengeance. Oh yes. He won’t last long now.

“Say the words,” Melkor whispered in his ear. His hand did not stop its motion. “Say the words and I’ll go. You could continue your little life here with Aulë, and I’ll never bother you again. What say you?”

The Maia didn’t answer. How could he? He was lost, Melkor knew. Overwhelmed by sensations both physical and spiritual as his soul, conflicted, sought and then avoided his own.

“No? Then don’t you ever lie to me again, you hear? Never. You do not belong to Aulë, you belong to me. Now cum!”

Mairon screamed and Melkor’s hand filled with scorching hot liquid. He held him in place until his tremors subsided, and then let him sag heavily against the column. He wiped his hand all over Mairon’s chest and stomach. The fastidious Maia didn’t even raise his head, too busy trying to catch his breath.

“Mas…” he started to mumble, but Melkor silenced him.

“No. I will only hear it from you when you’ll have no excuses for saying it other than pure submission. You’ll either be mine wholeheartedly or not at all.”

With that he turned and walked away, leaving Mairon alone in that big, cold hall that must have felt even more foreign to him now. Just when he knew he was out of sight, he licked at his fingers and took a deep, sated breath.

The Maia will come to him soon enough.


End file.
